


To Be My Second Self

by mydogwatson



Series: DIALOGUES [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Romance, Sherlock is not romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 23:04:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1405903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydogwatson/pseuds/mydogwatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is talking to the skull, practising the words he wants to say to John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Be My Second Self

**Author's Note:**

> After the angst of yesterday, I thought maybe something a bit fluffier might be nice. Although it is more a monologue than a dialogue. Anyway, enjoy!

I ask you to pass through life  
at my side---to be my second self,  
and best earthly companion.

-Charlotte Bronte

 

The skull is proving to be an excellent audience as I rehearse. These are important words, the most important of my life, and I want them to be perfect. It is all proving to be more difficult than anticipated. But then I give myself a mental shake. I am a genius, after all, and should be able to conquer this.

[Note to self: Perhaps now is the time to restrain my natural arrogance just a bit. Sometimes John is amused by it. Sometimes he is irritated. Neither reaction is what I am hoping for this evening.]

So. I begin again. [I have been at this for some time now.]

“John, I have prepared a list of thirty-seven reasons why I believe our current arrangement should be formalised.”

Does that perhaps sound too much…too much me?

The truth is that John Watson is a romantic and I am not. But he must know that by now. Still, the thought occurs that, of late, my words and behavior might well have led him to think that I secretly harbour romantic inclinations. Nothing could be further from the truth, of course. The things that I have said and done have nothing at all to do with those sentimental trappings that society associates with romance. It is simply how I respond to John Watson.

I almost think it is some primal instinct against which I am helpless.

But that doesn’t sound right either. This is the choice that I have made.

“John, I have come to accept that I no longer care to live without you. You are indeed my heart, just as---”

No, perhaps this is not the time to bring up that particular memory. That particular nightmare.

“John, I adore you and want the world to know it.”

Seriously? If I actually say that to him John will be checking me for a fever. Or drugs. And he’d be quite right to do so..

Although it has to be said that the sentiment is absolutely true. He must know that already. Mustn’t he? But perhaps not, because he is sometimes an idiot.

An indispensable idiot. My own very essential idiot.

If it did not seem nauseatingly sentimental it might be pointed out that I am sometimes an idiot as well. John Watson’s idiot.

The skull is sneering at me and not without cause. I am supposed to be the genius in this relationship and yet I seem to have lost the ability to string simple words together in a coherent way.

“John, I would like the rest of humanity to know that you are mine. Especially all those women who look at you and flirt with you and want to…well, never mind.”

Now I am being laughed at by a chunk of bone. Justifiably so. Possibly I should advise John to run the other way as quickly as possible before my stupidity becomes painfully obvious to him.

He will never run away from me.

“John, marry me so everyone will know that I belong to you.”

Ah, yes, that is the important thing. Not that John belongs to me, but that someone, especially someone as remarkable as John Watson, wants me. Wants me enough to claim me and keep me and…

Well, never mind. I do begin to understand why John might be misled into thinking I have become a romantic. He is inclined to think the best of me, always. Mostly always.

I need to get back to logical thinking.

“Clearly marriage would make financial sense. You handle all of those boring things so well anyway and this would make it official.”

John is practical, so he will appreciate that.

Sadly, the skull is starting to look bored.

Oh, oh---

“Don’t forget the whole medical thing. Remember last month when you had that unfortunate fall? Which was really not my fault at all, no matter how it seemed to you at the time. We ended up in A&E and they would not let me into the examining room. Of course, it didn’t help the situation when you said ‘get the fuck away from me, Sherlock.’ If we are married they will have to let me in. And you wanted me in there, really, you said as much later.”

What else?

The skull has no suggestions. I did well to replace it with John.

I look at the list again.

“It occurs to me that you don’t know about the trust fund. Well, there is one. Mycroft will be ceding control back to me soon and then, if the worst happened, you would have the money.”

Well, not the actual worst, because that would be something happening to you. Something that left me alone on this planet. The second worst would be me having to leave you behind for real. If that happened, you should have all the money. I probably flatter myself to think you would find mere money, even a considerable amount, cold comfort in the face of my death. Although I do know that if I expressed that belief aloud you would be angry and hurt. You would ask me to remember what happened when I jumped off a building. You mourned and mourned. You limped again. You cried at my grave. I do not doubt your feelings, really. Truthfully, I suspect that you would throw the money in Mycroft’s face. Figuratively. And knowing my John possibly even literally.

“There are a number of items still on my list, but perhaps I should just get to the important one. I want to be married to you, John, simply because I want to be married to you. I need to be married to you. And that is not romance. That is scientific fact.”

Now the skull is beaming at me.

Downstairs, the door opens, then closes again, and I hear your footsteps coming up. It has obviously been a long, hard day at the clinic. You are clearly exhausted.

Is this not a good time for what I want to say? Perhaps I should wait until a more appropriate moment.

But then our door opens and you step in. There is no weariness at all in the smile you immediately direct at me. Instead, there is what even Sherlock Holmes [a not-romantic idiot] can recognise as being pure happiness. Might I even say joy? No one has ever been as happy to see me as you are. Every day. “Sherlock,” you say and at that instant I know that this is the exactly right time for what I want to say to you.

“John,” I say. “I love you. Will you marry me?”

***

**Author's Note:**

> Something funny occurred to me while working on this. Has to do with the Law of Unintended Consequences. While I am sure it was not their intention, Mofftiss made it rather easier for me to put these words into Sherlock's mouth, because of the Sherlock they gave us in season three, especially in TSOT. Just a thought.


End file.
